Daisy Chain
by Maidenstear
Summary: A short Fakiru oneshot.


Aneko: So I got a friend into Princess Tutu (A friend who has never watched anime before, too—I'm a little proud of that, eheh…), and now I've gotten back into the Princess Tutu mood…reminding me just how much I love it as I watched it with her. Thus! I've decided to write another story. This one is supposed to be a bit a more light hearted moment between Fakir and Ahiru.

Do I believe that Fakir would argue childishly with Ahiru? Yes I do…

Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu.

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><p><strong>Daisy Chains<strong>

"Aw, come on Fakir!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't finished yet."

"So? I want to read it anyways."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"_Please_?"

"_No_."

"Hmph…"

In the silence, he could practically hear her sulking. Fakir's eyebrows drew together in a line of irritation, and he was just short of banging his head against a wall.

He sighed, wondering why he had ever agreed to let the energetic, and still annoying, Ahiru hang around him while he was writing. She wouldn't. Stop. Bothering. Him. First she had wandered around, babbling about random crap, like she hadn't seen Charon in _so_ long, and Pique and Lilie did something so mean the other day, and did he want to hear about it, and yesterday Sensei told her she should work on her basics again and she wanted to see Mytho and Rue-chan sometime soon and—

She was like some weird wind-up toy that didn't stop. Or shut up.

Fakir shut the book he was writing in with a sharp snap. He had started using notebooks, finding them easier to transport than loose paper. When he looked back at the gangly girl behind him, she was wearing a pout, just like he expected, her eyebrows drawn down in displeasure and her lip jutting out slightly. He rolled his eyes at how childish she was being.

She had grown a little over the last year since he had changed her back, but she was still awkward and ungainly. It would be a while yet before she grew into a more graceful phase of her life.

They were seated on a wide grassy hill in the courtyard of the academy. Fakir was seated farther down than Ahiru, and she was lying on her stomach nearby, her legs in the air, kicking back and forth as she tried to peer at the pages he was writing on. She sat up when Fakir closed his book, crossing her arms in disappointment.

"If you want to read something that much, just go to the library," Fakir said.

"What? I don't want to! I want to read something that you wrote!"

"What difference does it make?"

"It just does, okay?" She insisted.

"Well forget it. You aren't going to read it."

"Stingy."

"Whatever."

Truthfully, Fakir was extremely wary. He didn't like letting anyone read what he had written, even if it was Ahiru. He had been like this since before his parents died. Even then, his stories were his own treasure, the kind that wasn't supposed to be shared. There was just something about giving up the pages and pages of his sloped cursive writing that made him anxious in a way that nothing else did. It felt like he was revealing the deepest part of himself to the world, baring his soul and letting everyone see. The only person who had read one of his stories had been Rachel, and she had snatched it out of his hands without asking and run off with it.

"Well how close are you to being finished?"

"Who knows? I haven't been able to write very much because _someone_ won't leave me alone long enough for me to write a single sentence down."

"That isn't true! You were out here for a while before I found you."

"Not that long."

"Long enough."

"How would you know?"

"I dunno, it just seems long enough time to write something at least…"

Fakir snorted inelegantly. "You don't know a thing about writing."

'Yeah, but if it wasn't for me you wouldn't have started writing again in the first place!"

Fakir glared at her. She was a fly, that's what she was. Those annoying ones that have nothing better to do than fly around your head in circles until you swat them.

"Stop glaring at me, or your eyes might get stuck like that."

Plus, ever since she had learned that he was a "really good guy," (her words, not his) he was unable to intimidate her like he used to. She just laughed, instead.

"Maybe," Fakir finally conceded, reluctant through the whole two syllable answer.

"Yay!" Ahiru's face brightened immediately.

"But you have to shut up, or I won't be able to think. Keep babbling, and I'll just go home."

"I don't babble."

"Right. And cats fly." He was struck with the irrational and very strange image of Neko-Sensei trying to fly in the sky with a great pair of bird wings strapped to his arms. Fakir rubbed the bridge of his nose. Ahiru was probably starting to rub off on him. That was what he got for hanging around the airhead so much.

She frowned. "Mean."

"Idiot."

"Jerk."

"Stupid."

"Stingy."

"Duck feet."

Ahiru opened her mouth to insult him again, then her brain registered what he had said.

"Hey!"

Fakir shrugged. "It's true, isn't it?"

"I do not have duck feet!" Ahiru argued heatedly.

"Oh, really? Then why do you still trip so much when you dance?"

"Th-that's cuz…oh, shut up!"

Fakir stifled a chuckle. She could never win an argument with him. Maybe it was because she was younger, but he wasn't sure. It was so amusing to watch her get all huffy when she couldn't retort to something he had said.

"Can I read it now Fakir? I really want to."

"No. Now shut up."

Her sigh sounded more like a grumble. He opened his notebook once again, noting in his peripheral vision that she had rolled onto her back and was now trying to make a flower chain. It wasn't going very well. He shook his head, and focused on his writing. A few minutes passed. The wind brushed against the grass gently, causing ripples of green to pass along the hill. Ahiru began humming a soft melody in the background. Fakir relaxed into the rhythm of his writing, and was soon absorbed by the words.

He was so concentrated that he didn't notice the flowers until one landed on his notebook. He frowned down at it, as though it had magically appeared from nowhere. Then another one landed. And another. Fakir twisted around and saw that Ahiru was on her knees, sprinkling various colored wildflowers over him. He could feel some catching in his dark hair.

He raised an eyebrow. "Just what are you doing, exactly?"

"Throwing flowers on you."

"Yeah, I figured that out, smart aleck. But _why_?"

"Don't you think they're pretty?"

"You didn't have to throw them on me. I can appreciate them without that." He extracted one from his hair, flicking it back at her.

"Oh, come on, they're just flowers!"

"You broke my concentration."

"I was just trying to show them to you!"

"You could have waited until later! I would've seen them eventually. They're just flowers."

"Geez! Quit being so grumpy. You're mean!"

"If you think so, then just go somewhere else."

"Fine, I will!" Ahiru jumped up. Throwing a last handful of flowers—and a few blades of grass at him, she stuck her tongue out at him with a "bleeeeh!" noise, and then ran off.

Fakir rested his chin in his hand, watching her leave. It seemed like most of their conversations devolved into arguments. But he supposed arguing was better than the way it used to be—thinking of her like she was a worthless piece of existence, and she thinking that he was made of ice and therefore had no feelings. And besides, even though she always seemed to end up running off, she always came back later, either forgetting that they had argued in the first place, or feeling apologetic. She was like some sort of dog. She ran away, but couldn't resist coming back again later. Or were cats more like that? Oh well…

Now that she was gone, Fakir could focus his complete attention on his story, which he gratefully did, taking advantage of the blessed silence he had until she appeared again.

His pen wrote curving letters across the paper, and the words flew under his hands. He was glad that he was able to write what he wanted. He had been experiencing a bout of writer's block over the last few days, and it had just broken today. Now he couldn't think of anything but writing, as the ideas kept coming to him.

Before he knew it, the melody of the clock tower was echoing across the campus, and the small mechanical figures did a short, jerky dance on their circuits before disappearing for another hour. Fakir looked up at the clock in surprise. He had been outside for half an hour already and hadn't even known it. He stopped his writing and looked down at his notebook. There was almost no empty space visible on the paper.

As he sat there, he felt something warm touch his shoulder.

"Um…Fakir…"

He turned. Ahiru was standing behind him, holding a cup.

She looked down. "I thought that you might want something to drink," she said.

"Oh. Thanks…" Fakir took the drink from her, taking a cautious sip. "I'm amazed. It doesn't taste totally horrible."

"Don't be mean! I was just trying to be nice. You don't have to insult me about it."

Fakir smiled. "Yeah, I know. Thanks. It's good."

Ahiru blinked, her expression blank, and then she ducked her head shyly. She turned around and plopped down on the ground behind him, leaning against his back.

"Your welcome," he heard her mumble.

Fakir smiled again, and they sat there quietly, the two of them, enjoying the soft day as Fakir drank the tea she had brought him.

Ahiru kept her knees pulled up to her chest as she sat behind Fakir. His back was very warm, and a lot bigger than hers. From the corner of her eye, she could see the edge of his open notebook, and see that he really had written a lot once she had left him alone. She knew that he really didn't like to share his stories with people, but she was just so curious. She wanted very much to read at least one of his stories. She knew that he was a talented writer, and had told him so several times, though he never believed her.

Ahiru looked up into the sky. She knew that he would let her read one eventually. She just had to wait patiently for the day when he was willing to open up to her. The only problem was that Ahiru was not good at waiting, and she certainly wasn't very patient.

Fakir heard Ahiru sigh behind him. He glanced at his open notebook. He had finished the story a few minutes ago, and now it sat in front of him, waiting.

Ahiru was still looking up at the sky, when Fakir suddenly moved away from behind her. With a squawk of dismay, she tumbled over backwards onto her back. She looked over and saw Fakir looking at her. His lips were quirked in a slight smile, and he had one eyebrow raised. He offered her a hand. She accepted his hand, rubbing the back of her head where she had bumped it.

"Come on," Fakir said. "Let's go to Charon's house. There's a story I want you to read."

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><p>Aneko: Finished! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :3 Until next time, my dears. Ja, sayonara.<p> 


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